Tuesday, Jul 8, 2008
In the split-second that I realized he was about to explode, I dived to one side like a stunt man in a Schwarzenegger flick. I hit the floor, rolled once and came to rest against the aft right-hand exit door. From this relatively safe vantage point, I watched the action unfold in a semi-detached, slow-motion blur.
Just before the kid convulsed, he managed to cover his mouth with both hands. But this maneuver seemed to cause more harm than good. Thin sheets of ejecta shot from between his tiny fingers and splattered the face of all four galley ovens. His head proceeded to swing side to side in a 180-degree assault that covered the galley in a yellowish-orange slime.
I stared at him with a mixture of awe and repulsion. It was as if he had become one of those rapid-fire lawn sprinklers with the rotating mechanical head. The Lawn Boy 2000: We guarantee maximum saturation or your money back! The stuff just kept coming and coming and coming.
After what seemed like an eternity, the kid finally ran out of juice. Literally. With one half-hearted swipe of his sleeve, he wiped his chin, then turned to look at me. His eyes had returned to normal size. But now they were heavy, weighed down by guilt and embarrassment. His spew-covered hands began to tremble as tears ran down his cheeks.
Watching this display of raw kiddie emotion, my hardened heart loosened a bit. Fighting the stench that was beginning to make me dizzy, I rose to my feet and stepped toward the kid, careful to avoid the pools of ooze that covered much of the galley floor.
As I approached, he began to cry in earnest. Big boo-hoo sobs. Crocodile tears. He just sat there, bawling, covered from head to toe in liquefied airplane cuisine.
Overcome by a paternal urge to pat him on the shoulder, but unable to find an adequate dry spot, I reached out with one finger and sort of ruffled his hair a bit. He looked up at me wearing an expression that, for a moment, tugged at the heartstrings of forgiveness. Then the unthinkable happened.
Much like that infamous scene from "The Exorcist," the kid looked right into my eyes and let loose a Linda Blair pea-soup blast that covered me from the knees down to the tips of my uniform shoes. I stood there, motionless, feeling the molten bile seep through my socks and into the gaps between my toes.
Before I could throttle the kid he leapt from the jump seat and disappeared into the darkened cabin.
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